Nothing To Say

And the night opened to me without hesitation, showing me its seedy underbelly with a Strangelove I’m unfamiliar with. Speaking with newfound eloquence, I accept its invitation

Inebriated crusted hipsters pirouette shamelessly through red lighted districts, flaunting their lack of inhibition without fear of ramification. Remembering Youth, envious, I gaze upon them with a fevered jealousy I didn’t know I possessed

Negro jazz wafts up through hardened concrete and glass alike with its improvised falsetto keeping pace with the accelerated pulse of the city. Max’s drums, Miles’ trumpet, Monk’s piano, playing just for me or so I liked to believe…

Street lights wink, shimmer and glow through the evening acting as stars, illuminating the path for those who dare traverse out into the obsidian of night. Some as close as my eyes, some as distant as broken dreams, they lead me effortlessly further into night’s womb

Automobiles zoom past me, heading nowhere fast, spewing toxic perfume rich with carcinogens and pollutants into night’s sky, carrying its passengers to destinations unknown, unfathomable to a mind such as mine. With a roaring of horsepower and a turn of a wheel, adventures and tales wait for the speeding few

All too soon, the rays of dawn will stretch out elongated Fingers of Hope over the horizon, ending yet another night but rest assured, without fail, Night will draw in the dauntless and daring, such is its power

A year ago, we lost a great man on an operating table with his chest torn open, not unlike that creature in Aliens that incubates inside its victims before re-emerging victorious, tearing through bone and flesh alike, seeking new life. Except in this scenario, only death reared its ugly head. With eyes closed and heart still, a warrior faded out of existence without so much as a goodbye to his family and friends in his wake. “No dice” what was told to me by the operating surgeon as he entered the small, non-descript room where families go when the surgery for their loved ones is touch and go. My younger sister loses it. His partner of thirty plus years exhales in lost, defeated. Slowly inside of me, in the heart of me, a flame flickers brightly, briefly, then extinguishes itself leaving me still and frozen inside.

I am fully aware that death is a natural phenomenon that is as sure as taxes but nonetheless, it took the air out of me, sucker punching me with a force I haven’t felt before. I left the room, leaving his immediate family to mourn and walked down a dimly lit hospital corridor to collect my thoughts and come to terms that there will be no more Old Man in my life. No more daily texts of good morning/afternoon/night. No more “boy’s night out,” leaving our respective significant others at home to be Masters of The Universe, if only for a few fun filled hours. No more heart to hearts, spoken in a language that only a father and son could truly understand and acknowledge. There were never enough of any those, no matter how repetitious or arbitrary they may be to some. I’d kill to have them back. Between us, I still secretly text him. Guess I’d be kind of freaked out if he responded.

Yes, I miss him. I miss him more each day but one thing he instilled in everyone who was close to him was the ability to keep going, to persevere despite all odds. So, that’s what I’ll do: I’ll go to work. I’ll take care of mine and keep my affairs in order like the son he wanted me to be. I’ll uphold his name which he was generous to pass down to me and honor his life by preserving his legacy in the best possible way I can.

The things we encounter and deal with daily… sorry this is a day late…

Happy sixth anniversary to Gregorymccant.com!!! Six years and running and it has been a rollercoaster of a ride. By far, the least amount of entries throughout my time doing this writing thing and for that, I apologize. I’m not going to sit here and say that I’ve been working on The Next Great American Novel because that wouldn’t be true. Nor did I go on some sort of sabbatical to find myself or to gather new fodder for my imagination to rummage through. That too would be a lie.

The bottom line is I’ve been lazy. Period.

I have become a victim to life. I have let life use and abuse me and in return, I fell off the rails a bit. Okay, a lot. I’m being honest. I am drained from the whole ordeal but being resilient, I shall persevere. Keep a look out for mccantoo.com as well as it too deserves a bit of recognition.

I thank you again for all of you who have supported this site for over half a decade and I promise you I’ll keep plugging away if you keep reading!

The turkey, stuffing and all the trimmings come out this time of year without fail. The roads and skies become congested with the hustle and bustle of family members and friends breaking their necks to connect or reconnect with those who they care about, if only for one day of bonding while the stuffing of their faces commences. Consequently, the day before is also the second busiest drinking day in this great land of ours. Coincidence? I think not. Outside the birth of the son of God, this is the only other time that people use to congregate on such a large scale.

But what are they gathering for? An elaborate free meal? The chance to see loved ones? A mini vacation from the S.O.P. of their everyday lives? As I sit in yet another Starbuck’s, sipping on yet another caramel Frappuccino, I ponder the meaning of Thanksgiving.

I would like to think that people as a whole are genuinely sincere in their thankfulness this season. With the ever present threat of terrorism rearing its ugly head at every turn, with racial tension boiling over and out of control, not to mention the uncertainty of the political parties that be, it is enough to make any sane person be grateful for what they have in this world.

Bask in the familiarity of family and friends, if only for one day. Pray for them, as surely they pray for you. Be thankful for the roof over your head and the food in your house; there are many who are going without, trust me. Be grateful for the opportunity of employment as it keeps you in the lifestyle you are accustomed to. Most importantly, thank the Heavens that you had the opportunity to wake up and breathe in yet another glorious day of life. If you get to spend it with the ones you love and care about, that makes it all the better.

I was sitting in my apartment, wallowing in the thought of being alone on this day when a surprise phone call from a family member made me realize that you have to be appreciative of all that you have, even if it’s a day off from work alone. She was right. I got up off the sofa, threw on some sweat clothes and made my way outside which to my surprise improved my mood greatly. The icing on the cake? It’s an unusual for November sixty degrees! If anyone ever has a doubt about the healing power of the sun on your body, get your ass outside and try it!

Thank you Milvie for reminding me of the blessings I have in this life. I sometimes get lost in the grind.

Happy anniversary to Gregorymccant.com! This is the fifth year of its existence and it is also the worst year of content as well. I mean look at it; there is virtually nothing on here for the year of 2015. Where once there were monthly pieces or wanna-be poems now only resides empty, blank pages and lack of readership. Where did it go all wrong? At what point did my passion disappear for this, this… craft? Will it ever return?

You’re goddamn right it will! Rest assured, the drought is over and the machine is cranking back up once more, ready to produce yet more work for your reading enjoyment. I so apologize for the laziness; it was not my intention. I have learned during this hiatus that it is amazing how life can throw things at you to get you off your game. Normally, I’m immune to such things as deaths, illnesses, career changes, moving across country 1500 miles, multiple hospital visits and financial distress but when they hit you all at once, it’s enough to cause anyone to falter. But no more excuses! I’ve heard all the requests from the few followers I have and so I shall persevere!

In addition to the usual, I am taking requests for ideas or storylines from the masses. Think of it as a thank you for stopping by here every so often.

So as the fifth year begins, please keep in mind that without you, there is no me. Feel free to comment with your pros and cons and constructive criticism. Knowing those who know me, I don’t think that will be a problem.

…and the Monster in its fifth year roars defiantly,

Gregory E. McCant

P.S. Mccanttoo.com is yet another site you can explore to your heart’s content!!!

*This was what should have been printed over five months ago but due to me locking myself out of my own site like some idiot, I’m just now posting. Sorry.*

Bye Felicia 2014!

With less than eight hours left of 2014, I find myself reflecting over the past 364 days with a bit of regret and gratefulness. I understand that both these feelings are complete polar opposites of one another, but the two totally encompass the memories and events of ’14. Surprisingly, this has been the best year for me as far as stability is concerned. I’ve miraculously managed to achieve health care coverage, a spacious, fully furnished apartment and a somewhat blurred vision of my inevitable retirement; normal things for the average person but elusive to yours truly, particularly during my entire adult life. The regret can be summed up in five simple words: I should’ve done shit earlier!

So I go into 2015 with a smidge more optimism than I have in previous years. It’s frightening, optimism freely exuding from me is something I am unaccustomed to and I welcome it with open arms. It doesn’t hurt to have an angel on your side; one that has led me by the dick kicking and screaming into my newfound stability and has fed me more knowledge than any school or career could ever administer. And that ladies and gentlemen, is what I am eternally grateful for.

I recently read something online that I feel pertains to the New Year. To be honest, I don’t remember the passage word for word, a downfall of mine, although I do remember its point. Vaguely, it said that you have 365 days to write the next chapter of your life the way you want it to begin and end. I plan on filling every page with life.

This will be hard. Hard in the sense that my brain has been somewhat fried and not a decent line of thought has crossed it in the last six months or so. I can chalk it up to drinking, partying, the company I keep – present company excluded – or just plain old laziness and procrastination. More than likely a poisonous mixture off all of the above with ultimately only myself to blame for not doing any work. Somewhere along the line I lost my passion, my drive for writing. I can’t precisely remember when it happened or what made it happen, all I know is that it has indeed happened and it scares me beyond belief. The one true creative thing that I somehow managed to squeeze out of my non-artistic oriented mind, the only form of rehab that didn’t require weekly meetings that left me with feelings of guilt and shame, my one true friend within the last three or so years that accepted me without passing judgment has up and vanished, leaving me that much sadder in its absence.

Okay, I confess, that was a bit dramatic but now that I have your attention, I’ll admit that’s it really a simple, generic, no fancy big medical term applied, block. I’ll try to tone it down from here on out, I promise.

This isn’t like some flu or virus, easily treatable by taking a simple stroll down to CVS or Walgreen’s in the middle of the night and purchasing a bottle of New Ideas! PM (conveniently marketed next to the Night Owl’s other favorite drug of choice, No Doze) and it’s back to the races, pounding out page after page of The Next Great American Novel. No, this is no quick fix. You can ask other professional and amateur writers about how they dealt with it (cause let’s face it, they have all been through it, even the great ones and if anyone of them tell you differently, they are fucking outright lying to you in your face) and maybe walk away with a few new ideas or exercises that had helped them out but I’m finding during this that you and you alone have to find out what works for you. Maybe a new environment in which to work from, a change of scenery might help. Cutting down on my red meat intake has come to mind in the last several weeks. That’s how desperate I am to get back on track and get the machine’s cogs rolling again!

I do know from experience that being relaxed and alone with your own thoughts has its benefits when faced with a block. Even if it’s taking an hour a day and making it the time that you do work and work alone, with no phone or television to distract you from the task at hand. I remember vaguely that physical exertion in the form of running and working out helped as well. As the sweat ran off my bald head and the snot flew from my nose in copious amounts during my morning indoor gym routines, all kinds of ideas popped into my head. Random, yes but with such clarity that many of them ended up being used in some form or another on this site. I’m not saying go out and purchase a Gold’s Gym membership and a Bowflex for home use, I’m simply walking myself through what used to work for me. Again, what works for you may not work for me, I just miss my friend.

Don’t get me wrong; the familiar whirring and grinding of once stagnant gears have definitely been heard off in the distance. That sneaky son-of-a bitch Insomnia, slithering its way back a couple of nights a week into my already busy schedule, loaded with that itch my hands get when the longing for the soft click-clacking of a keyboard beneath them means that my old friend is knocking again. And this time, hopefully, he stays around for breakfast. I’m sure I’ll be up!